<p class="p1"><a href="http://www.mommyunplugged.com/ecards/momtomom_003.html" title="" target=""><img src="/assets/cms_images/momtomom_003.jpeg" alt="momsfriends" align="none"></a>until I became a new mom in a new town. Now my kids are 3 and 6-years-old, but I still have scars from doing the whole "new mom" thing. When I was single and living in the city, I dreamt about the day I would meet the man of my dreams, become a mom, and do all of those cute mommy & me classes. In this delusional fantasy, I was constantly going to lunch (my angel would let me eat); I was making tons of mommy friends (we would have many playdates with awesome snacks); and most importantly, I would have an amazing husband to wrap up my day with.</p><p class="p1">Thankfully, the latter is true - my hubby rocks! (And I'm completely thankful for that.) But the rest of it has never come to fruition. Not to say, I haven't met some really nice moms along the way - but it never came together for me the way I had envisioned. For example, I was so excited when I met a mom who lived a block away from me who had a young daughter as well. As I enthusiastically asked her questions (as is protocol for any budding relationship), she seemed totally disinterested and was only excited when a girl she knew walked by. I didn't understand why she wasn't interested in establishing a new friendship - especially since we were neighbors. But I wouldn't let this stop me... so what if this biatch and I weren't going to walk our carriages down the block and gossip over a skim vanilla latte. I was moving on...</p><p class="p1">Next, I "picked up" a potential mommy friend at a local children's boutique. This mom was very friendly and totally seemed like someone I could connect with. Plus, she was wearing a really cool shirt, but that's neither here nor there. Needless to say, I was psyched when we exchanged numbers (I hadn't felt that since my online dating days). So I called her. And although she was very sweet, when I asked if she'd like to get together, she actually said she'd give me a call another time and try to "pencil me in." Uhm, who the f says that? After all, I wasn't trying to get a reservation at Nobu. This was for a damn playdate. I'm sure this chick was strapped for time and had her circle of friends already - but she helped solidify the fact that my new life was going to take more work than I thought. Blech.</p><p class="p1">Okay, so now not only was my "mommy fantasy life" being ripped to shreds, but I was beginning to doubt myself. My mind would race: Am I not "mommy cool" enough? Am I looking too desperate? Should I not have worn the shirt I got at Marshall's? Basically, in my new life - was I a loser?</p><p class="p1">How could it be that I felt comfortable in an advertising board room presenting my ideas to a room full of people - but I wasn't kickin' it in a room full of wipes and Cheerios? I performed stand-up comedy for G-d sakes, and now I can't even get a play date. What has my life become?</p><p class="p1">So I did what I knew how to do best: I picked up the phone. I called my sister (also a new mom), as well as every other mommy friend I could think of, and shamelessly made them tell me I'm not a loser - but rather a cool, funny, coveted friend. And thankfully, they did. And they even related having the same experiences as I did at the beginning.</p><p class="p1">I'd love to wrap this story up in a neat bow and say that I now have the "Sex in the City" of mommy friends. A big group of girls with whom I play Mah-Jong, compare toddler stories, and eat sushi lunches. That hasn't happened. Instead, life has simply moved on, and I appreciate the quality friends I do have. And when I see a new mom with that desperate, "deer-in-the headlights" look in her eyes, I can relate like it was just yesterday.</p> <p class="p2"><b style="line-height: normal;"><font color="#ff3333">How did you adjust to motherhood?</font></b></p>